Of Believing and Forgetting
by Nightingalelynx
Summary: Because she never stopped believing; she simply forgot, and he could only watch as she closed the window. But after all, he IS the bestest there ever was; will he really just stand back and watch her forget him? ONESHOT Peter/Wendy


Disclaimer: None of the characters in the story belong to me! They belong to J.M Barrie. Enjoy! Reviews would be appreciated. For those who read my previous story on Vampire Academy, it has been discontinued & deleted. Sorry! ~Nightingalelynx

Pairing: Wendy & Peter Pan

**Summary: Because she never stopped believing; she simply forgot, and he could only watch as she closed the window. But after all, he**_** is**_** the bestest there ever was; will he really just stand back and watch her forget him?**

**Of Believing and Forgetting**

She never meant to break her promise, oh no. And she didn't, not at first. After her last meeting with the boy who stole her thimble, she had a joyful reunion with her family where they scrambled to tell Mr and Mrs Darling about their adventures in Neverland, and then came the rush to put all the Lost Boys into a school, after which came the lessons and the homework, like a wave, threatening to take her under if she ever relaxed. It continued for quite a long time, until their summer holidays. That summer, she thought of him quite often indeed, but he never came to visit. Desperate, she clung to the acorn button and sometimes even spoke to it at night, pretending he was here. But the acorn button didn't crow loudly and proudly like he did, nor did it smile a cheeky, cocky grin, nor did it comfort her when she was unhappy, nor did it fly… in short, the acorn button was not the mischievous boy that occupied her mind all summer, and the summer after that, and after that…

Well, after that, she had a little trouble remembering what color his eyes were. Sometimes she dreamed of a blue eyed boy with endearing messy blonde tangles for hair, but other times, he had soulful green orbs, and just once, one vivid image came digging its way out of the many memories; a silver eyed boy, basked in the moonlight of London, standing on her windowsill. One hand was raised in a solemn farewell.

"_Goodbye, Wendy_…"

Needless to say she woke up in cold sweat after having that dream, and buried that one true memory deep—where, she didn't know, and didn't ever want to know.

John, Michael, and the boys (for that was what they were called now) forgot about him fairly quickly too, as the boys started doing what they vowed never to do; grow up. They quickly found interest in girls and in the midst of this new world, they forgot about the immature boy who was once their leader. John, on the other hand, even dared to claim that he wasn't real. She scolded him for losing faith so quickly, but later that night, she stood before the mirror and her hand fiddled with the useless acorn button that used to mean so much but was now just a rotting, decaying nut that made her itch. So she unclasped it and put it in a little box to simply forget about it.

Her memories dissolved quicker than ever after that, and she very quickly forgot many of her beautiful adventures in Neverland, until all that remained was a faint whisper of a boy and his fairy.

She began to grow up, too. Soon, she was a proper English lady courting a proper English gentleman, and living a proper, most lady-like life. Mr Darling was quite pleased with how his children and adopted children turned out, but Mrs Darling couldn't help but remembering how warm and happy life was when her motherly services were needed and when her children ran about, screaming with laughter all day long.

She went to dinner parties with her parents, and slowly, gradually, she stopped accompanying her parents and started accompanying the man she was courting; the son of the late Sir Edward, no less! Her mornings were filled with stitching, reading, and writing lessons, her afternoons filled with learning to be an even more charming young lady (lessons with Aunt Millicent were enjoyed, now). And during the evening, _well_. There were so many parties, dinners, and ceremonies to attend. If she was free, she'd spend the night with her family or with the brown haired, brown eyed man that was often by her side.

He knew about all this. Of course he did. At night, he would dream of snippets of her grown-up life in London. In the morning, he would mope around and try to interpret what the snippets meant. In the afternoon, he wandered about; re-visiting places they had gone to so long ago. In the evening, he played with the new Lost Boys, rough, rugged games that boys his age play, his mood temporarily lifted. Then at night, the cycle would start again, and he would wake up with a sinking feeling of helplessness in the morning… and so it went.

One day, he flew to London (entirely by coincidence! I just wanted to find more Lost Boys!) and was met with drawn curtains on a locked window. Beneath that window, though, he could see another window, this one open. She was there, with her family, and his old Lost Boys, and… a man that held her hand, gave her warm looks, laughed with her, gave her… thimbles.

At once, it became hard to breathe, and his heart gave feeble thuds and he was enveloped by something. He wasn't sure what it was, but no matter how much he wriggled, he couldn't shake free of this invisible grasp. He wanted to stab something, or at least do something, but all he could do was press his face against the window and inhale everything about _his_ Wendy's grown-up self. There was something missing.

Then he realized what was missing. His kiss, his first kiss to her was gone from her neck, replaced by a glittering, sparkling, heavy thing. A kiss from the other one.

Carefully, and with precision, the fuming boy floated into the house and up the stairs without the family seeing him. Then he hid in the nursery, and here, at least, nothing had changed.

Before he knew it, the lights were dimmed. The three not-so-children were fast asleep in their beds that had become too short for them. There was no space in the house anymore, not with Aunt Millicent and all the boys demanding a bed of their own. Peter Pan crept out of his hiding spot and begun searching like he had so many years ago, except this time for his kiss.

Gently, he began to re-fasten the necklace. The acorn button crumbled slightly, and he realized that this would not do. If the button fell apart completely, what would be there to remind her of him? So, beaming at his own cleverness, the eternal boy took another acorn button from his attire and fastened it to the chain as well.

He took the chance to study his grown-up Wendy. She was still the pretty girl he remembered, and as she slept, there was an air of vulnerability around her that made him desperately want to protect her. But there was nothing to protect her from, especially with Hook dead. Restless and feeling helpless, he kicked the bed. Wendy awoke with a start. Peter flew out the open window, but peeked back in.

"Who's there?" She called out into the darkness. Then she remembered the last time her sleep had been disturbed in the middle of the night, with her window open. A boy… Neverland… what was his name again?

Suddenly the image rushed into her mind. A silver eyed boy with messy, tangled hair dressed in skeleton leaves, standing on her windowsill, bathed in London moonlight. A little light illuminated his face—a fairy, it was. A forever youthful face, saying, what did he say again? And what was the boy's name, anyway?

"Goodbye, Wendy." A soft murmur stimulated her memory, for there was only one boy who spoke of her name like that, full of sadness underlined with happiness, with a tinge of awe.

"Peter…" Wendy breathed.

Outside of the window, Peter Pan gave himself a pat on the back for his cleverness before beginning his journey back to Neverland.

All was well… at least until the next time she forgot_. If she does,_ he thought,_ I'll just go and remind her again!_ The prince of Neverland was back to his old self.

Inside the room, Wendy Darling berated herself over and over for breaking her promise and forgetting. After all, she never stopped believing, she simply forgot. And Peter could live with that.


End file.
